Scratch the Surface
by danecross
Summary: Just because the Braeden's can't remember Dean doesn't mean they are free from the supernatural things that go bump in the night. In some cases, their inability to remember could be the death of them... BWahahahah!
1. Chapter 1

Scratch the Surface

Ben hitched the strap of his Jansport higher on his shoulder and eyed the home of the Glenwood Springs Demons. Dropping his head, he headed for the oversized walls flanking the high school entrance. The building had been designed as a deconstructed postmodern medieval siege fortress, complete with high set arrow slits and glass architectural postmodern patterning. He pushed shoulder first through the door into the internal chaos of students jostling for peer attention.

He cut through the social interplay with blunt force, leaving eddies of snide comments and covert admiration. He wasn't in the mood to play nice. He was still hemorrhaging from this morning's confrontation with his mom. His Cap'n Crunch felt lodged at the base of his throat, a physical reminder of the bitter words that had been flung across the breakfast table. Spinning through his locker's combination he threw the door open with a satisfying crash and quickly exchanged one worn text book for another.

He sagged into the locker's claustrophobic privacy. How had everything burned to ash so fast? His head still echoed with his mother's anger. They were so far south of normal Ben was completely lost. Growing up without a father, the only constant in his life had been his mom. The Braeden's, mother and son, against the world, right or wrong, no loop holes or clauses. She had always had his back. He had never given the nameless SOB that had contributed the other half of his DNA more than a passing thought, because she had always been enough.

So, how the hell had they gotten here from there? He wanted desperately to blame Dave, her latest boyfriend, but he liked the guy too much. Besides, mom's boyfriends only lasted long enough to prove they weren't who she was looking for. Sometimes, Ben wondered if that had anything to do with the mystery of his dad. But his Mom's love life tended to be a subject he avoided. A teenage son just didn't want to dwell on his mom's sex life.

He swallowed back the heartache, buried it, and shrugged on an "I could care less" veneer that would get him through the day. Kicking the locker closed, he risked taking the scenic route to first period. Mr Thompson would be pissed if he was late, but he figured he needed the additional time to settle before facing any academics.

Passing by the vocational auto bay, low voices and a breathy gasp of pain brought him to a halt. "Really?" he snarled at the cosmos "I need more to deal with?" He stood debating with himself. Trying desperately to reason against his compulsion to right the wrongs of the world. Sure, everyone enjoyed rooting for the underdog. But most people were content to do it from the sidelines rather than wading into the fray to even the field and share in the consequences. But another soft gasp set him in motion, backtracking into the auto bay, against his better judgment.

Between two Detroit born auto projects stood three heavy hitters from the football team. Likely held back for athletic accomplishment, they were putting the squeeze to a set of skinny jeans in combat boots. A cocky grin slid into place as Ben thought, "Time to make some friends". "Hey boys!" he called, "That old Plymouth Roadrunner has enough dents already, you wanna watch what you're doing?" 4 pairs of eyes swung his direction. "Crap, Skinny's a chick," Ben realized. Coming to a girl's rescue felt validating, but he had been counting on sharing the action when the fists started flying. Call him chauvinistic, but he didn't hold a girl to the same expectations as himself. And he couldn't help wonder, why his luck was always so crappy? "Guess I'm in it for the long haul," He muttered, calculating damage projections of 3 against 1 rather than 3 against 2.

"Step off neub," Drago 2.0 growled. Ben gave him a long suffering look, "Come on man, lunch money is what… 6 bucks? Be original, make a different career choice."

Ben succeeded in ducking the first swing, but caught the second across the cheek bone, sending him toppling over the side of a tool bench with a resounding crash of tools. Thing 1 and Thing 2 jumped up to get their chance to play. Ben scrambled across the wrench sockets scattered across the floor dodging as best he could as the three jockeyed for a shot.

A deep bellow finally cut through the testosterone. Mr Kramer, built like a descendant of the mythic Paul Bunyan and the undisputed ruler of the automotive vocational domain commanded attention. "What are you boys playing at here?" Ben ignored the question, instead giving the room a cursory check with the eye that wasn't swelling up. Skinny had skipped town. Classy, Ben thought. Realizing that without backup, he needed to pay attention to whatever cover story Drago was trying to sell, he wiped the blood from a split in his lip and tried to focus beyond the pain that was his face.

Mr. Kramer held up his hand, "Save the noise for the principal to sort out." He gave Ben a disappointed look. "On your feet Mr. Braeden. Looks like you'll be missing my 2nd period lecture on carburetor performance modification, since the lot of you are headed to the administration office for the morning." Ben silently cussed himself out. Mr. Kramer was the one teacher that had taken an instant shine to him and he had just tarnished it.

Ben dropped his backpack heavily beside the open bench of a lunch table and sat. The location was more public that he preferred, but at least he would have witnesses this time. Something that was top of mind having spent the last 3 hours fighting for his version of the morning's altercation to be considered as plausible.

It turned out that Alex Chase and his football teammates, or Drago and his offensive line, as Ben had started thinking of them, weren't especially inventive. But what they lacked in constructing a plausible story and motive, they made up with faculty connections. Ben figured keeping to public places for the next few weeks would be a good idea, in case there were any repercussions headed his way. He felt damn lucky to have escaped the principal's office with a reduced sentence of detention. If his luck held, he planned to serve his time and get home for dinner with his mom, who wouldn't need to know much about any of it.

Ben sighed. His black eye was attracting a lot of interest. As the new kid, the attention made the hair on his neck bristle. He hunched his back and was doing his best to concentrate on his institutional hot lunch when a pair of boots shuffled to a stop in front of him. Ben glanced up to see that it was Skinny. She nervously glanced around the lunch room before giving Ben a hard stare that went 5 seconds beyond awkward.

"What?" Ben grumbled, resisting the urge to reach up to feel if his hair was out of whack. Maybe the damage to his face was worse than he thought.

Quickly, she slumped onto the empty seat across from him. "What are you?" she hissed, giving him a pained look that wrinkled up her face. She moved with exaggerated emphasis, trying to evoke some sort of supernatural powers of the mind. But like some B movie actress, she lacked the nuance to accomplish it without scripting.

Ben rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to pushing overcooked veggies around on his disposable lunch tray. Just his luck to earn detention stepping up for someone from the nerd brigade. He wondered if his day could get any worse when she pulled out her own personal silverware; complete with fancy monograms, salt and pepper shakers, and a flask from her backpack. Socially awkward didn't even begin to describe her lunch layout.

She twisted the top off the flask and held it out to him in invitation. Ben studied her, the bleached out hair, rich coppery skin and heavy eye makeup had an off putting effect. He was already dreading his mom's reaction if she found that he had been fighting; Skinny wasn't worth adding alcohol to the fire. He shook his head and started gathering up his things. She grabbed his wrist with surprising strength and demanded, "Take a sip."

"Psycho," Ben growled, shaking her off and grabbing his bag to leave. With a jerk, the liquid from the flask slapped across Ben's face and he blinked in shock. Water dripped from his chin, his hair. The students in their proximity fell silent, enthralled by the unfolding drama. Instinct helped Ben flinch in time to shield his eyes from the dash of salt Skinny followed her first volley with. "What the hell!" he exploded from his seat. A warning glint of light from her silverware sent Ben backpedaling clumsily to gain some distance. Skinny lunged across the table and Ben barely managed to grab the fork she jabbed at him before it found his neck.

Enough was enough, Skinny had just crossed the "don't hurt girls" threshold. Ben pulled and twisted, sending her crashing into the lunch trays of the table behind them. Across the room an administrator shouted, Ben turned and booked it for the nearest exit. He threaded through a wall of gossip hungry students crowding to see the commotion. Steps from the open hallway and freedom Mr. Kramer's hand landed on the back of his collar, and spun him off his feet. Crap! Mr. Kramer looked angry as all hell.

It wasn't until Ben was seated back outside the principal's office that he realized he still had Skinny's fork clutched in his fist. He shoved it into his pocket to deal with later. Skinny sat across from him. Ben was grateful that the office administrators' disapproving attention kept her from breaching the distance between them. Two fights in one day, Mom was going to be pissed! He wondered if there was any way to talk his way out of the school suspension headed his way.

Ben tried to ignore Skinny without losing her from his field of vision. He didn't trust her not to try another assault, despite the adult audience. Besides, there was something unavoidable about her, like a disaster in the making. She fidgeted oddly in her seat with a circular pocket mirror, practically twisting herself in half just to get his reflection to register in the reflective surface. He was about to mutter the obvious when the office door beside him swung open, catching his focus.

Dr. Dave Dysert walked in. Six foot, blond mane, tan complexion, and built with the confidence of a cage fighter. He was an eddy of fresh air and Ben's breath hitched at the sight. "Thank you," Ben prayed to whatever angel had sent Dave in his Mom's place. A strangled squawk and the thump of Skinny falling out of her seat, ruined the moment. Ben cast a WTF look at her, barely registering her suddenly pale countenance, before Dave regained his attention.

"You ok, kid?" Dave's warm hand gripped Ben's shoulder with a steadying reassurance. Ben gave him a soft smile. "Yeah, tough day is all." Dave nodded. "Give me a moment to spring you," he said with a tilt of the head towards the principle, "then you can tell me about it." Ben nodded. His eyes followed Dave through the principal's office door and waited for him to reemerge. Skinny and the administrative staff was forgotten in Ben's faith for this man his mom was dating. In no time Dave returned. With a flick of Dave's hand, Ben came to heel.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben gave the dark interior leather of Dave's Dodge Charger an appreciative caress before pushing the heavy door closed. Glancing up he caught Dave watching him with interest. Ben smirked, "What?" Dave shrugged and raised his hands in defense, "Hey, I get it. Baby Doll's the prettiest girl you've ever seen, right?" Ben shook his head good naturedly and hopped the curb to join Dave in admiring the classic car's strong lines. "No really," Dave prompted, "I'm seriously asking," he pushed watching Ben's body language as the teen took a moment to seriously evaluate his take on the topic. Ben turned back to the car but despite a general appreciation for the classic it was difficult to force his attention to the subject.

The midnight blue, 1969 Dodge was in mint condition, a gear head's wet dream, and it made Ben uncomfortable to find her wanting. But if he was going to be honest, the front bumper was too minimal, like a retainer wire across the gapping maw of her front end. A chromed grill would have concealed the dark gills of the radiator giving her a less predatory look. Also, four doors would have been nice. He was always stuck in the back when the three of them took Dave's car, and it was an added hassle flipping the seat forward to get out. Plus, if he really wanted to be petty, he would have gone with black. But he couldn't actually say any of that to Dave. The car was Dave's pride and joy and Ben really liked the guy even though he was dating his mom. So Ben deflected instead, "Uh, dating 101 Dave. The girl you are dating is the prettiest of them all. Saying anything different just lands you in the dog house. Not that I should be giving you any tips on how to stay good with my mom."

Dave shook his head in playful denial. "Sounds like you know your way around women. Someday you're to finds that the car is part of the draw. Take Baby Doll here," Dave said reaching forward to give the glossy hood an affectionate pat, "She's royalty; ever seen a show named the Dukes of Hazzard?" Ben shook his head no. "Great, now I feel old." Dave teased, waving Ben to follow him to the glass entrance of the Glenwood Spring's "The Inner You" clinic. "Anyway, it's this show about two brothers in a classic muscle car who ride around - raise a little hell, end up on the wrong side of the law for all the right reasons. Whether your mom will admit it or not, something about Baby Doll, appeals to her."

Dave pulled out his keys to let them into the Clinic, which Dave was a part owner and the head surgeon for. Sundays and Mondays the clinic closed, apparently those were off days for the plastic surgery professional. Dave held the door open for Ben to enter the darkened reception area. The interior was quiet, every detail sterilized and staged by the nightly cleaning crew for opening Tuesday morning. The only light streamed in from sky lights, leaving the corners eerily shadowed. Ben kept close on Dave's heels as they left reception to pass through surgery. Something about seeing all the life support equipment shut down, hanging limp and unused gave Ben the creeps.

"Welcome to my cave," Dave said flipping on the lights in his office. Dropping into the seat behind his desk he tapped the keyboard to awaken his computer and type through the privacy prompts. Ben shut the door and collapsed into a seat. He pulled Dave's Sunday paper's cross word puzzle into his lap. The inked answers were remarkably readable for someone with an MD attached to his name. From the corner of his eye Ben studied the man that had seduced the Braedens to Glenwood Springs ten months ago.

Golden, was the best description for him. Six foot, blond, athletic, successful. He kept his thick wavy hair on the long side leaving him open to Ben's occasional taunt about surfer dudes. To Ben's amusement, Dave always countered with a lion comparison; as if looking like a lion was something an adult should aspire to. Dave was the missing piece for the Braeden household, dependable, loyal, with an unexplained affinity for pie. Actually, Ben was pretty sure Dave's fascination for pie was something he did just to get attention. Said pie, wasn't always consumed.

Without looking up, Dave asked, "Are we going to talk about why you got me called in to your principal's office?" Dave turned from his flat screen, his gaze pinning Ben. "Or can I assume that this officially ends your membership in the fight club and we can move on to discussing what to tell your mom?"

Ben chuckled, "First rule of fight club is you don't talk about fight club." After a pause, he rolled his gaze to the ceiling, "So I guess since I resigned…" Ben shrugged, "wrong place, wrong time sums up what happened."

"Both times?" Dave challenged.

"Ah, kinda. Look these big guys had a girl cornered… and how was I to know she was cracked and liked the rough stuff. I thought she needed help. Then at lunch she hunted me down and took her frustrations out on me."

"Women," Dave urged, having trouble holding back his amusement which egged Ben to keep going.

"I don't know why I attract the freaks." Throwing his hands up dramatically Ben continued, "I know I'm gonna sound like a chick, but it's like I can't catch a break at this school. All the decent BFF options either lost their personality to physical enhancement drugs or are already in committed relationships and aren't entertaining new candidates for their personal circle. That leaves me with the dregs of the geeks squad who rarely leave the glow of their computer monitors or the dead heads who don't care what warm body is beside them as long as the trip was good. Being the new kid sucks. I have lousy luck."

Dave teased, "Lousy luck, huh? Is that a family trait, or are you just SPECIAL?"

Ben playfully kicked the desk at the cut. "You know mom's got great luck, she caught you."

Dave preened, "Yes, I am quite the catch."

"Jerk" Ben hissed.

Dave smiled at Ben, his affection for the teenager obvious. Then abruptly he leaned forward with sudden intensity, "What about your dad? Am I like him?"

Caught off guard, Ben sat up in his chair stalling to form an answer. "I don't think so. I never met him. Mom says she had a type, leather, scars, NO forwarding address. He isn't even a consideration."

"That had to be tough," Dave said turning back to his computer, "growing up without a father. Aren't you curious?"

Ben's eyes jumped to meet Dave's profile. A chill crawled it's way down Ben's neck and he had to fight his instinct to deflect to a different subject. By mutual agreement, the "Dad" topic was taboo at the Braeden household. His voice dropped to just above a whisper, "We don't talk about it."

Dave frowned, "Does that seem natural to you?"

The floor seemed to drop out from under him and Ben had to look away to hide his unexplainable unease. Dave didn't deserve the sudden compulsion Ben had to flippantly dismiss the subject. He couldn't explain how just the thought of his deadbeat genetic donor, whom he had never met, had the ability to emotionally shut him down, leave him completely incapable of coherent thought, a void of frustrated rage. He bit out a soft curse.

"Hey!" Dave called, leaning across the desk to grip Ben's shoulder. "Easy. You are what matters to me. No one else. Just, you and me, Ok?" Dave waited until Ben met his eyes and nodded. Dave ran his hand through his hair nervously, "I'm effing this up. I was just working my way up to asking your permission to marry Lisa. I want be your dad but I'm just a little worried about the competition." With a self-deprecating chuckle, Dave pulled a ring box from his coat pocket and put it down in front of Ben. Ben's emotions ran the gamut: Elation that Dave wanted to be his dad, terror that this somehow would all go sour. Ben looked at Dave without a clue how to respond.

"Wow," Dave said collapsing back into his seat. "I thought this would go over better. You and I have always hit it off and… I guess… I thought you would be excited."

Ben nodded, "I am. It's what I want too," He added breathless. Picking up the box he flipped it open, stalling while he shoved his emotional crap back into the box it had sprung from. He whistled at the size of the stone, then tried to fix the situation with some humor. "If this one is for me, I can't even imagine the size of the rock you bought for mom."

Dave snatched the ring box back with a grin. "Real funny. Any chance you could ditch the t shirt and flannel look for a night and back my play when I ask your Mom at dinner tonight?"

Ben shook his head vehemently, "No way, a proposal dinner is the last place you want a third wheel."

Dave smiled, "I'm desperate. I really need this to work. Tell me how to get it right?"

Ben picked at a worn spot on his jeans. No one had ever gotten it right with his mom. "Maybe right is not what you should be trying for." Dave stilled, watching Ben struggle to put words to his instincts. "Ask her in the moment. Don't give her too long to think. Don't plan it; just be ready to pop the question at the next run of the mill moment where it feels like life is perfect." Ben looked Dave in the eye, "Just be yourself."

"Easier said than done," Dave shot back. "Kids can be themselves, adults have to be the guy that get's the job done."

Ben smiled, "Look, mom baked you a pie last night. She doesn't do that for just anyone. I'd say you are the right guy for the job."

Dave quirked an eyebrow, "Am I?" He let the question stand a little too long before smiling and shrugging the question off as playful banter.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Ben leaned back from his laptop. He was 8 pages into a paper on the geologic history of the Glenwood springs aquaculture. It was slow going and Ben decided he needed a bowl of ice cream to inspire the final pages. He had another hour before Dave and Lisa came back from dinner and he was making the most of it. The house was lit up like a stadium, the Black Keys were redlining the stereo speakers, and his back pack had exploded across the carpet. He was headed back to the couch when the doorbell demanded his attention. He brought down the volume with the remote and headed to the door hoping it wasn't a neighbor upset about the noise. His mom had left on her date with the promise that they would be talking about fighting at school before the night's end, he didn't need to add fuel to that fire.

He checked the peep hole and cursed.

It was that psycho chick that had landed him in the office twice in one day. She stood stage center beneath the porch light glaring murderously at the door. With a growl she reached forward and pounded her fist against the wood. "Open up Benny! I know you're in there."

Ben chewed his lip trying to figure out the quickest way to get rid of her. "Can't, I'm grounded. I'm not allowed to have anyone over."

The girl snickered, "I'm not your friend and this isn't a social call, so open the damn door before I kick it down."

Ben snapped, "No wonder you have the football team gunning for you, your social skills are stunning!" Ben cursed himself for the outbreak. "Look, I think it's better if we just don't EVER see each other, like EVER."

The girl studied the door with her hands on her hips. "Sorry, no can do. I came to apologize and it won't count unless it's face to face." She cocked her head, "Are you really going to play hard to get?"

"Apology accepted, now go have a good night somewhere else," Ben answered, snapping the door chain into place and heading back to the living room. He sat down in front of his laptop. He didn't turn back to his report. Holding his breath he waited. He gave it another second before abandoning his bowl of ice cream to double check that all the doors and windows were locked and the security system engaged. Returning back to the light of the living room, he couldn't quite make himself sit down. So he stood, listening, trying to see past his reflection into the dark of the night.

By the time his ice cream was melted Ben decided the threat had passed. Picking up the bowl, he headed for the kitchen. He shook his head at his fan friggin tastic luck. Trust him to attract a high school stalker. He wondered why "normal" didn't seem to be in his DNA. Rinsing his bowl, he dropped it in the dishwasher and headed back towards the living room. Something made him hesitate, a flash of movement.

Ben barely got his hands up to block the Doc Marten headed for his head. The girl was fast. She swept his leg and had him on his back in a blink. Her weight thudded heavily against his chest as water doused his head. A repeat of her attack that afternoon, Ben found himself spitting from the follow up volley of salt anticipating the cutlery. Jerking her forward Ben arched, sending the girl catapulting over his head. He pushed to his feet and spun to face her.

"Hey Benny," She greeted with an unsettling smirk. She crouched, holding a wickedly sharp blade of silver in her left. Her dark eyes shimmered inhumanly gold, causing Ben to stumble backward into the wall. "Shall we dance?" She teased, stalking forward.

"Why are you doing this?" Ben asked, his voice pitched low, underlying his anxiety.

"My dad says I need to work on my people skills." She dead panned.

Ben stumbled along the wall, trying to maintain his distance. "Uh, who's your dad?" he floundered trying to keep her talking.

She hesitated, giving him a calculating glare, "Mom says not to tell strangers details that are none of their f*ck!ng business!" She spat with alarming heat. Ben stared at her like someone who had just realized the video train wreck he was watching was streaming live. He feinted towards the kitchen then sprinted for the glass slider in the living room. He flicked off the lock and managed several inches of night air before she slammed his forehead into the insulated double-pane glass.

Stunned, Ben never felt the blade sink into his bicep. Skinney yanked him off his feet, the impact stole his breath. Ben struck back, ignoring his body's panic to jumpstart his lungs. She went down in a deadly flurry of elbows and nails. They rolled in a desperate battle; Breath, chugging heat into each other's face, Sweat, undermining their grip on each other, Blood, keeping tally for the score board. Skinney caught the cord of the lamp on the end table and brought it down across Ben's back. Black dust motes drifting across Ben's vision. Rather than press the opportunity, Skinney kicked away, propping herself back against the couch.

Ben lunged for the blade that had been forgotten when it clattered beneath a recliner.

Seeing the knife Skinney gave a husky laugh and held her hand up to halt the action. "Ok," she panted. "You pass," she added pointing at the blood soaking his sleeve. Neither of them looked pretty. She gave him a smile, each of her teeth outlined in red from her bloody lip, "My name's Vanesha." Ben stared at her with wide incomprehension, like she wasn't speaking any language he could interpret. She frowned at him, "I said you pass, nothing supernatural about you."

Ben pulled his feet underneath him, still holding the knife like a ward against her. "Get out!" he growled. She studied him. Her nails had scored his neck, the neckline of his undershirt was torn, and his head was missing a few patches of hair. She climbed to her feet with a soft grunt. Benny packed a decent punch for someone without training. She glanced around at the mayhem left from their exertion. "Want some help cleaning up?" she offered, wincing at a pulled muscle as she reached over to pick up a rumpled entertainment weekly from the floor.

"I'm calling the cops," Ben threatened, heading for his phone peeking out from beneath an overturned chair. Palming the device he cursed. The face plate was crazed and the device wouldn't power on. Dammit! How was he going to explain this to his mom? He turned on the girl, an unsettling darkness in his glare. Her eyes softened with apology, "I can't leave until we figure out what is going on. You are my only lead."

Ben stepped forward, his knuckles tightening around the handle of the knife. "Get out," he said with an unsettling quiet. Vanesha huffed. This wasn't over, but her spidey senses were telling her now was not the time to push. Ben had an unexpected steel core that she was surprised to have run up against. Better to fight another day, she thought with begrudging respect. On her way out the open sliding glass door she stopped to buff away a smudge of blood. Her dad liked to say it was never too late to make a good impression, guess this was one of those moments.

Slipping into the night, she settled back into a neighbor's shrubbery to watch. Ben tucked her knife into his belt and gave her departure a rude salute before snapping the blinds shut. Now that Ben had dropped from prime suspect to likely victim, Vanesha acknowledged a begrudging respect for the guy. Weaving her way back towards the front of the house she found the back pack she had hidden. Pulling out supplies she quietly worked on a few precautionary measures; laying a line of salt across the potential entrances and drawing a devil's trap with a sharpie beneath the welcome mat.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dave made his way down a dim hall to the restrooms. As the door swung shut he made a quick sweep to ensure all the stalls were empty. The heavy tiling on the walls muffled the din from the live blues band. Thank Horus for small favors, he thought. He moved to the farthest sink and flipped the faucet on. Gripping the porcelain basin with both hands he dropped his head to watch the water spiral down the drain. He could feel the corners of the ring box tucked inside the pocket of his jacket, pressing against his rib cage. He had an unexplainable urge to move… run. But Dave was about control, so he walled it off. His thumb tapping the cool white of the sink was the only tell of his internal conflict.

Walk away, you can do without - the thought whispered in invitation to his anxiety. "No," Dave snarled confronting himself in the mirror. Walking away meant almost a whole year lost.

You don't deserve her, his reflection suggested. Dave shook his head savagely. Damn it, he clenched his eyes closed, trying to see inward, trying to understand why he was struggling to pop the question to Lisa. She was everything he was looking for; beautiful, intelligent, and haunted. Putting all his chips down, Lisa could keep eternity interesting and Ben... "Damn the sun," Dave cursed, the kid brought out parental instincts Dave hadn't thought himself capable of. Ben had burrowed to his core. Dave grit his teeth in distress. The situation was a hell of a lot more dangerous than he had thought possible, but there walking away wasn't an option he was willing to entertain. Dave tugged the small box from his breast pocket and tightened his grip until the edges cut into his palm.

VVVV

Baby doll rumbled into Lisa's driveway. Dave cut the engine and he and Lisa sat wrapped in the sudden silence. Lisa placed a soft kiss against his jaw then reached for the door. Dave caught her arm and pulled her back toward him. "Tonight was amazing," She smiled, "but I have a hormonal teenager that deserves a dressing down before bed." Dave glanced at the dark windows of the house. "Looks like Ben beat you on the bedtime timeline. The good news is," He leaned in to caress her nape, "his avoidance tactics mean that's a teenager with a healthy respect for his mom as an authority figure. That's impressive."

Lisa gently pushed Dave back. "You know I want to," She answered the heat in his eyes, "but Ben comes first. Call it unfair, but being a parent means discipline sucks for all parties." Dave laughed. "Sage advice, care to share another?" he asked, trailing his lips towards the lobe of her ear.

Lisa's smile warmed, "Raising a kid right is one of life's greatest riddles?" She offered playing to Dave's attraction to puzzles. Dave pulled back to study her eyes. "Well said." His voice ghosted across her parted lips. He swallowed nervously looking for some clue in the shadowed depths of her pupil. Unable to speak, he pulled her hand to his chest. Her brow quirked in question as her fingers encountered a lump against the flat plane of his chest. "Please," he whispered in invitation as Lisa's fingers slipped inside his blazer. She pulled the box out into the dim light from the porch. "What's going on," Lisa asked. Dave cupped her hand with his and opened the box for the diamond to sparkle. "I need you, now and always," Dave pledged, watching a complex mixture of emotion roll across her features. An eddy of extremes left Lisa catatonic. Dave found the conflict in her eyes an unbelievable turn on.

Lisa had been here before, but this time the usual denial refused to surface. Dave was amazing. Everything that would make him easy to introduce to your parents combined with all the rough corners that Lisa found attractive. On the outside, he was bigger than life, with a sexy swagger, and the charisma to get away with running his mouth. But on the inside he was heroically dependable, vulnerable, quick to put others before himself, and generous to a fault with himself and his time.

Harder to ignore was the way he and Ben had bonded. Having a father figure had done her son a world of good. Life with Dave was perfect as long as she didn't think too hard about it. But moments like this, where she forced her head to dwell on what exactly she loved about him made her paranoid with a wicked headache. She wanted to say yes even though the words wouldn't come. Instead she slipped the ring on with a smile and answered with a deep, lingering kiss.

VVVV

The bright clear morning light had a surreal quality, like the colors of a fairy tale. Dave had left in the dark hours of the morning and Lisa's clock radio had woken her too soon with the sound of the Bengals lamenting a Manic Monday. On automatic, she knocked on Ben's door as she shuffled her way toward the kitchen to rev up the coffee machine. She braced herself against the granite counter tops, her mind waiting for the caffeine when a spark of light called attention to the diamond on her finger. Men, Lisa groaned softly, last night had left her with a full plate and she wished she could crawl back into bed rather than face the music.

VVVV

Lisa watched the screen of her phone go dark before throwing it in frustration at the sofa. She bared her teeth at it, never having lost her disgust for the nasally tone school administrators seemed to adopt around disciplinary issues. She had been able to talk Principle Mathews down to a one week suspension, but the effort had left her pride tattered. "That bad?" the devil himself said from the base of the staircase. Lisa turned and studied her son, trying to school her disgust into something more parental. Ben looked plowed under, painful bruising shadowed his eye, his bottom lip was split, and he was favoring his right arm.

The damage kick started her maternal instincts and she pulled him into her arms to offer comfort. It still caught her off guard that he had grown too tall to tuck beneath her chin; an unsettling reminder that he wasn't her little boy anymore. She worried that she wouldn't always be there to shield him from a fall, but she was at a loss at how to teach him self-preservation. His natural inclination to fling himself into the fray, to right the wrongs of the world had always warmed her heart. The idea that she now needed to beat some of that out of him made her ill.

"One week, you made quite an impression on Principle Mathews." Lisa murmured.

"Sorry, mom," Ben responded.

Lisa stepped back and angled his face to examine the damage, "You know, I don't even remember how you learned to fight. One moment you're this sweet six year old refusing to talk about how you lost your jacket on the playground, the next you're beaming despite a black eye ecstatic that you finally got your Walkman back from Billy."

"Mom," Ben groaned, expressing his embarrassment because it was expected; silently content with the tender moment. There was so much to tell her but he didn't know how to voice any of it without sending the conversation over a cliff. So he let her lead.

"How do we stop this from happening a second time?" Lisa asked.

Ben shrugged. "I don't get… them." He confessed. "I try to do the right thing and it just… **isn't**."

New kid at school, Lisa thought. She bit her lip and glanced at the rock on her finger. Ben tracked the movement and gasped. "He did it!" He looked back up at his mom's face for confirmation. Lisa smiled tentatively. Ben's face split into a dazzling smile and he grabbed his Mom into a tight hug. Pulling back he studied her face, "Am I supposed to say congratulations? Or is that weird because I'm part of…the bride's, Uh… this?" Ben fumbled still smiling like a golden retriever. Ben's enthusiasm was contagious and Lisa found herself smiling back. "I don't know," she answered. "We've never gotten this far, have we?" She asked him ruffling his hair. Still trying to gauge whether her son had any reservations for this decision she had made on both of their parts. He seemed more confident with what the engagement ring represented than Lisa was. She tried to tell herself that the whisper of doubt was just her natural unease with the convention of marriage.

"Let's celebrate!" Ben crowed. "I'll make eggs. My special recipe, just the way you like them with pepper and…"

"No," Lisa gasped. Ben turned back to her with a mixture of surprise and confusion before Lisa even realized what had popped out of her mouth. She blinked, why had she done that? "Uh, I can't." She covered. "I'm teaching the early class… and that chat with your principle has already put me behind." Ben deflated. Damn it, she hadn't meant to put this on him. It was just an excuse because she couldn't explain why the thought of eating Ben's special scrambled eggs to celebrate Dave's proposal left her nauseous.

Ben wrapped his arms around himself and slouched back against the couch. "Ok," he accepted, reeling in his exuberance. He hadn't been trying to get out of taking responsibility for fighting at school. He noted the darkness in his mom's eyes and realized that his trouble had ruined a moment that should have been one of her happiest. "Sorry, Mom."

Lisa cursed herself and checked her watch. 20 minutes, she didn't have time to fix this now. "Come on," She sighed. Ben looked up at her with tentative questioning eyes. "Getting suspended isn't supposed to be fun, so you are going to help me teach all my classes today." Ben's look changed to one of horror. "No," he said desperately jumping to his feet in entreaty. Lisa ignored him and headed upstairs to change. "Mom, no!" Ben begged dogging her heels. The thought of a whole day of cardio and awkward yoga poses in front of an audience of 40 something wealthy women who had never been told no in their lives, left him desperate. "How about, I'll clean the house… or a do an extra credit report for school…"

Lisa didn't have time for "negotiating", at her door she whipped around. "You should have thought about this before getting yourself suspended. Now get dressed, you are going to be plenty busy with school work tonight so that you don't fall behind." With that she closed her door on him to get changed. She promised herself that she would revisit the engagement subject later. They could celebrate tonight.


End file.
